


Each breath we lost

by GufettoGrigio



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Because Akashi, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio
Summary: In the wake of Shutoku's loss, Shintaro finds himself hitting the floor, hands round his throat as blood and colourful flowers pour out one last time.





	Each breath we lost

The light in the locker room is too bright, the white of the tiles too cold. Shintaro presses his forehead against the wall, chasing the chill in an effort to force down the latest wave of nausea.

It’s useless.

They have lost. He has lost. His chest feels on fire. The tears won’t stop.

He dry-heaves once, twice, pressing his hands against his mouth to keep it in, keep it hidden.  

He is going to die. He already knew but still he had hoped...he had prayed...

He looks over to the bench where his lucky item for the day lays discarded. The shogi piece just sits there, innocently mocking him. Cancer was not first today. It was high, but not first. It therefore should not come as a surprise that he lost: even at his absolute best he was never able to beat Akashi and he has been far from his best for longer than he cares to admit.

Still, he had pushed.

He had hoped.

He had been foolish and delusional.

It takes effort to unclench the fist pressed to his lips. It takes even more effort to let go of the wall and stand upright. Or as upright as he can manage when his insides seem determined to become outsides.

His teammates are unusually quiet all around, some having already left. Takao offers him a half smile through the tears. Reality hurts for everybody, but for Shintaro in particular this adds yet another unbearable layer of agony. He failed in his efforts and dragged his team down with him. They might say he is one of the Generation of Miracles but, when they most needed him to, he had fallen short of performing one for them, just like he had failed to save himself and maybe Akashi too. If it was worth something he would apologize but he has no breath.

“I’ll have a shower. Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up later.”

 _

In an effort not to let the world know just how long he has left to live, Shintaro forgoes stripping and stands under the shower fully clothed. It helps. The hot water and the steam filling the shower room ease up the pain in his chest, if only a little bit. The sound of the water also covers the coughs and cleans away the blood pouring out of his mouth. When his legs start shaking too badly and exhaustion catches up to him, Shintaro lets himself slide to the floor. Just for a moment, he tells himself. If the flowers let him, he’ll rest just for a moment.

The sharp knock on the door startles him. He sits up and hits his head against the wall, knocking away his glasses.The flowers crawl up with a vengeance. He presses a hand against his mouth and one against his chest to force down the onslaught.

Red and petals land everywhere.

“Midorima-kun?”

_Please, Kami, no_.   

The door opens.

“Sorry, Midorima-kun. Takao-kun said you found a ring earlier and Kagami has…”

Kuroko stops. Shintaro can hear the sharp intake of his breath even over the sound of the shower. The shock is understandable, he tells himself. He really must be offering a rather disgraceful sight: clothes soaked, broken glasses, curled up on a dirty floor covered in blood and colorful petals. _So many petals._

For a long moment there is just silence, Kuroko gaping at him from the doorway.

“Midorima-kun is this…?”

Shintaro can do little more than nod “Hanahaki, yes. I..I really…”

He does not know how to continue though it would have been useless anyway. The rasp in his throat flares up again and Shintaro doubles over coughing and retching. Petals scatter everywhere, yellow, blue and white tainted with the red of his blood.

“Is it Akashi-kun?”

Shintaro nods once more, unsurprised that Kuroko figured him out. When he coughs again it’s an entire flower that comes out of his mouth. The effort to spit it out leaves Shintaro shaking.

“How long?”

“That day...Murasakibara...”

It should not hurt so much to say it. It should not hurt so much _to_ _talk._ But Shintaro is well aware of the implications of what he has just admitted. It is a well known fact that Hanahaki disease usually kills within the year. There is no record of people surviving much longer than two. Spending time around the object of unrequited affection makes the condition worse, especially when the person makes their disinterest further known.

Shintaro all but killed himself standing on the court today.

“Midorima-kun we have to get you to the hospital. Today made it…”

Shintaro shakes his head. It hurts and it feels like he is drowning, his scientific mind unhelpfully supplying that yes, technically that is exactly what it’s happening with the blood and flower garden filling his lungs. But still, no matter the pain…

“No doctors. They could only...it might be too late for surgery anyway and I refuse…”

_I refuse to forget._

_I refuse to give up._

With a strangled cry Shintaro finds himself hitting the floor, hands round his throat as the blood pours out once more.

This is it.

He is going to die.

Then Kuroko kneels in the water. He reaches out and holds him as best he can while Shintaro heaves and coughs and tries to effectively rip his throat out. The pain is so much that Shintaro can no longer think straight, thoughts scattering like those damned petals on the bloody water.  Kuroko holds him up, tells him to breathe.

_Just breathe, Midorima-kun. Please, breathe._

Shintaro’s blood is on Kuroko’s hands and it should not be. This is dangerous but Kuroko seems unconcerned.

_Just breathe, Midorima-kun._

 _

Shintaro has no idea how long it is before the cough eases up a little. His throat still feels raw, his chest tight and he cannot breathe properly but he feels slightly calmer. The water around them has turned ice cold and there is what seems like a field worth of flowers stuck in the drain. The worst of the blood has washed away though, which is good because Shintaro is not sure he can stomach much more.

Kuroko is still holding him upright though Midorima can feel his hands shaking.

When he speaks his voice is barely a whisper.

“Does Akashi-kun know?”

Shintaro looks at the flowers and realizes he does not know how to answer that.

Akashi used to love him, but that was before he changed. It wasn’t unrequited in middle school but it clearly is now. Does Akashi now know what the old Akashi did? Knowledge is really unimportant though. The question is more: does Akashi care? Maybe. He did throw a tantrum when Shintaro announced that he was going to Shutoku. Akashi knows and somewhere he loves Midorima still. It’s just that love does not matter to Akashi any longer. Nothing but victory matters to Akashi any longer.

Shintaro takes a breath.

“Kuroko, I believe there is something important I might have figured out.”

 _

Kuroko listens to his theory in silence and Midorima is grateful for that. It’s already hard enough to explain that there are two Akashis when he has to constantly stop and spit petals.

“I wanted to win because I hoped that if I pushed enough Akashi would see that he needs to connect.” Shintaro finds himself admitting at last “He cannot do that when he is the one he is now. I was hoping defeat might bring back the old Akashi, break his walls just enough that I could…”

He stops and Kuroko has to help him get rid of the oversized yellow flower trying to choke him. When he goes to speak again Shintaro can distinctly feel that he has no air left in his lungs. His time is running out. He takes in what oxygen he can.

“I know I shouldn’t have played today...but you see..I..if I did not at least try I would...but there was no way...”

The sound stops him dead in his track.

He has never heard that sound coming from Kuroko. Never expected to hear it.

Gritting teeth.

Kuroko is _gritting his teeth_.

“Midorima-kun, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

Shintaro looks up. Without his glasses everything is hazy but he can still make out the hard lines of Kuroko’s expression. Anger and desperation do not belong on that face.

“Midorima-kun.” He calls again and Shintaro snaps into focus. “Shintaro-kun, you are so brave. So, please, let me ask this of you: hold on one more day. Let us take you to the hospital and survive another day. You might think that what you did today made no difference but you are wrong. It did. You are the only one who had the courage to stand up to Akashi without ever running away. Not running away today mattered. It mattered more than his victory.”

His voice breaks. “So please. You played a great game. You did all you could and more. Just live one more day. And leave the rest to me.”

_

The hospital room is small and empty-looking. Akashi makes a note to himself to pull his weight later and get Shintaro a better one. Not that a room matters much at the moment. He settles the can of soda - Cancer’s lucky item for the day - on the bedside table and lets himself finally look at the boy resting on the bed.

Midorima is clearly sedated, long limbs sprawled heavily on the tiny bed. He has always been more bones than muscles, adolescent body not yet perfectly filling the latest growth sprout, but now Seijuurou can see the unhealthy dips of his cheeks and collarbones. His wrists too. He does not doubt that if he were to take away the covers he would be able to count Midorima’s ribs.

How he played a full game in this condition is yet another thing to include in the long list of things Shintaro has done in face of Seijuurou’s complete amazement. Then again, maybe it was surprising for Akashi alone. For somebody who pegs himself as being able to perfectly read people, Seijuurou has found that he has a dangerous tendency to underestimate Shintaro’s heart and strength of will. _The very two things that first drew his attention to the lanky green haired boy all the way back in middle school._

Seijuurou sits on the bed and carefully reaches over to close the gap in the window. The room feels too cold, the chill of the night freezing the sweat on his skin. Rakuzan’s basketball uniform does not offer nearly enough warmth nor protection but Seijuurou had refused to waste more time to change out of it when he ran over. The shivers that wreck his body are somehow welcome too, the closer he’ll get to sobbing his heart out. If he were to break down now, Seijuurou is not sure he would be able to put himself back together.

_

So up close Shintaro’s face looks more adult than Seijuurou remembers. Hair longer. Nose sharper. Without the glasses the oxygen mask sits just a bit too high on his face. Seijuurou removes it, ignoring the crazy beeping of the machines.

The first kiss is nothing more than a brush of lips. There is a tender familiarity in the gesture, one Seijuurou feels he should not be entitled to anymore.

He remembers pressing a kiss to the corner of Shintaro’s mouth while he was playing in Teiko’s music room.

He remembers stealing a deeper one when Midorima had turned his head in surprise.

He remembers refusing one goodbye when Shintaro had come over to his house for the last time in their third year.

Suddenly desperate, Akashi  presses closer. Unresponsive but warm lips give way under his, deepening the kiss. If there are tears, nobody needs to know.

 _

When Akashi draws back it’s only because his lungs are screaming for air and there are petals in his mouth. He carefully spits them out and looks at them. In the fifteen minute ride from the gym to the hospital Seijuurou has of course gotten access to Midorima’s medical record so he had been aware of the severity of the condition. Hanahaki patients usually only have one plant growing in their lungs, often the one that best resembles their emotional situation. Because Midorima is Midorima, he had _three_.

_Hydrangea for frigidity and heartlessness._

_Marigold for grief._

_Daisy for simple, unshakable love._

Now, Akashi Seijuurou does not beg.

His orders are absolute.

But none of them ever worked on Midorima.

So he clutches the flowers and dives in for another kiss, a prayer stuck on his lips.

_I am sorry._

_Please._

_Shintaro, please._

 _

If theirs was a fairy tale, a kiss would be enough to wake up the sleeping beauty. But this is the real world and that’s not how painkillers and sleeping pills work. So Akashi waits, freezing in his basketball uniform.

He waits for the doctors to do all the check ups. He waits for them to confirm that the silence of the machines around him really means that Shintaro is once more breathing by himself. When Kuroko comes in with his coat and Kise with food, he accepts both with a smile but he does not move from Shintaro’s side.

They wait, they all wait.

And when Midorima finally opens his eyes again, Akashi finds that he can finally breath again too.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I publish in English, please do let me know if I have made any errors.  
> I do apologize if Midorima is a bit ooc, but the poor thing was basically dying so! Apart from this, I hope you enjoyed and pretty, pretty please let me know if you did (or didn't!).  
> Also, fun fact: hydrangea also means heartfelt emotions and developing understanding and acceptance between two people. Akashi reads it in its negative sense, but maybe Midorima meant it in its positive one?  
> Up to you!


End file.
